


tiny heart

by kwibu (cliffordiste)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliffordiste/pseuds/kwibu
Summary: God must've had a strike of inspiration when he made Mingyu.The thought often crossed Wonwoo’s mind, and he had no doubt it crossed other people's as well.  For all the years he’d known Mingyu, a lot had changed, but the thought had always stayed.After Wonwoo’s nth transfer to a different school, he meets a handsome and tall boy called Mingyu. He’s perfect. Wonwoo can’t stand him.





	1. prologue

Wonwoo looked on as his reflection heaved a sigh. His face was a little paler than usual despite the warm light radiating from the electric candles in the elaborately decorated chandelier above his head. The artificial light cast shadows underneath his eyes.

Raking a hand through his hair he forced the muscles in his shoulders to relax and tried to ignore the effect this room had on him; the marble slab flooring, the biblical yellowed paintings on the walls, the midnight blue curtains neatly drawn to the side to reveal an artfully designed garden complete with trimmed hedges and mermaids lounging on top of fountains. It was so different from the concrete and grass he was used to at home.

Today was supposed to be a good day, and it was going to be a good day. He just had to bite through these last few minutes of searing nerves and gnawing doubt. He’d requested them himself, after all. Just to be sure.

In a moment the door would open and he wouldn’t be alone anymore, not for a whole lot of consequent hours, and the luxury would be easier to take. After all, it was a day that only happened once in a lifetime.

Fortunately he’d had quite a hand in organizing the reception and he’d made sure the great hall looked cosy and homely and had plenty of corners he - or any of his friends and family, though he doubted they needed it - could escape to if it was all too much. 

His heart pounded heavily in his chest and his eyes wandered to the silver ring on his finger, soon to be a golden one, almost to check if it was still there, to check if he hadn’t dreamed it all up.

The knock on the door startled him and he let out a shaky breath before answering, “Come in!”

The old oakwood door opened without so much as a creak and the man of the hour stepped inside. Technically Wonwoo also wore that title but, well, it suited Mingyu a lot better. A smile spread on Mingyu’s face as soon as he laid eyes on Wonwoo. Wonwoo smiled back, feeling giddy all of a sudden.

Mingyu wasted no time making his way over and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think what a strange sight it was to see a tall, grown man in a finely tailored suit all but skip towards him with a childlike sparkle in his eyes. Whatever nerves Wonwoo had had were long out the window to sunbathe somewhere behind a peacock-shaped hedge.

His heart leaped into his throat as Mingyu stopped only a few centimeters short from bumping their noses together and held his elbows. He could feel Mingyu’s breath caress his cheek as he spoke.

“Ready?”

Wonwoo snorted, “No.” It was a lie. He’d been longing for this day for so long, and the softening of Mingyu’s features told him Mingyu knew it as well. He could see in his eyes he felt the same. Mingyu brought his hand to Wonwoo’s neck, heat radiating from the palm of his hand, and rubbed his thumb along Wonwoo’s jaw. It made Wonwoo wish he hadn’t shaved this morning.

He released his breath and let his eyes wander over the face he knew better than his own; the strong jawline, plump lips that were always slightly curled upwards, the boopy nose, round, high cheekbones, perfectly angled and long-lashed eyes, eyebrows that were full without being intimidating… 

_ God must've had a strike of inspiration when he made Mingyu _ . The thought often crossed Wonwoo’s mind, and he had no doubt it crossed other people's as well.  For all the years he’d known Mingyu a lot had changed, but the thought had always stayed.


	2. chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start, I'd like to make it clear that the characters in this story are based off of Mingyu and Wonwoo's stage personalities. They're characters. I do not claim that this is what the boys are like in real life, I do not claim they're a couple and I don't pretend to know them in real life. For this story, please only view them as the characters they are.
> 
> Please enjoy the first chapter!

 

 _tiny heart_  
_stuck inside yourself_  
_when will you open up for me?_

 

 *

 

Nutella sandwich clutched in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, Wonwoo eyed the cafeteria for any quiet spots. His back straightened a little when his eyes landed on the corner next to the piano all the way in the back, his feet carrying him without too much thought. Sure, it was technically on a stage but at least there wouldn’t be too many people around, most pupils choosing seats on chairs and — if they were lucky — even on benches around either huge rectangular tables or smaller, round ones.

Wonwoo had always thought it was a waste of space; nobody had ever held or would ever hold a banquet at a high school so why make the tables so long? The biggest meal he’d ever seen anyone eat in the cafeteria was two schools ago and it had been some popular kid showing off a thanksgiving turkey he’d dragged with him all the way from home on a dare. The kid and his friends had gorged themselves and made Wonwoo clean up the mess afterwards.

The clattering and pulsing voices faded to an almost pleasant hum as Wonwoo rounded the piano and sat down on the floor behind it, his feet planted on the step connecting the stage to floor level.

He studied his shoes. They were the same pair of white sneakers he’d been wearing for years; worn out, soles separating from the fabric in more than one place and the colour now closer to brown than white. Nothing had changed. This school having a zero-tolerance policy and all had made him stupidly hopeful but now he actually was here he felt the disappointment settling in his stomach like a lump of iron.

He put his sandwich back in the plastic bag it came from and spent the rest of the time staring at the far wall, letting his thoughts circle in his head.

Near the end of the break he gathered his stuff and made his way to his locker to pick up his books for the afternoon, ignoring the curious glances given to him left and right and instead recalling his timetable for the rest of the day. Science, science, art, science. He liked all of those.

For the first science class he chose a seat somewhere in the middle of the classroom, he’d arrived early and nearly no one was in yet, giving him free choice. He rummaged in his backpack for his books and his notebook and sprawled them out on his desk, all set to go. Like the coming of the tide,people started flowing in gradually and before long the classroom was filled up except for about three spots, the teacher still absent.

He listened to the rumble around him. A pale boy somewhere to his left mumbled something about Mr. Ryu not changing his habits in a million years, and someone behind him was spurting conspiracy theories to his friend, causing a smile to tug at the corners of Wonwoo’s lips. His attention was drawn, however, when a particularly tall figure appeared in the doorway and an unmistakable hush fell over the students.

He'd thought the teacher had arrived but the moment he looked up he knew he was wrong; it wasn’t the teacher the tide had brought in, but a student. An awfully tall, awfully comfortable-in-his-own-skin one at that. Wonwoo recognised him within a split second and wondered why everyone had gone all quiet until he met his gaze.

 _Shit_.

Wonwoo rested his chin in his hand and looked in the other direction, out the window, hoping the tall student wouldn’t recognize him, but his efforts were in vain. The boy walked up to him, greeted from left and right, and swooped into the empty seat next to him, “Hey.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said, not taking his eyes off the treetops he couldn’t even distinguish properly because he’d forgotten his glasses. Still, from the corner of his eye he could see the boy smiling at him and lean in a little closer.

“You transfered?”

 _Obviously_ , Wonwoo thought, but something stopped him from actually saying it. He sat a little straighter, a little uncomfortable with being recognized and actually being  _remembered_. “Had to.”

The boy next to him went still, stopping in the middle of finding the right page in his book. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Wonwoo shrugged. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t talk for the rest of the class.

*

Apart from that one guy, most people ignored him. Still Wonwoo felt like he should feel happier — he'd expected to feel happy, yet he was left with an empty ache in his chest; a nervous, restless tingling in his fingertips. He was used to feeling this way whenever people stole his lunch, shoved him into lockers or threw his backpack out of second floor windows, and he'd expected it to leave, but it was still there, lingering in the back of his head even though it no longer had a reason to.

He was starting to feel like maybe it _was_ him all along. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

A chair screeched backwards too close to him and he jumped up at the sound, his pen flying from his hands and landing somewhere two rows to the front.

Next to him stood a boy with the quiet demeanor of a man, looking at him a little bewildered and still clutching the back rest of the chair as if he'd forgotten to sit down. “Uhm. Hi.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat as quietly as he could. “Uh, yeah, hi.” He leaned back in his chair and let his eyes flick to the spot his pen had landed, debating whether or not he was going to get up to get it or not.

The boy followed his gaze. “Are you getting that?”

He contemplated it for a second longer and shook his head. “Nah,” he decided. “Sounds like effort.”

The corners of the boy’s lips twitched ever so lightly. “It does, doesn't it? Hey! Vernon!” he called. His voice was barely louder than it had been before but it carried weight and was impossible to ignore. Someone with bright blond hair and the craziest smile turned his head to look at the boy — and, Wonwoo realized, at him. “Toss me that pen, would you?”

The blond boy — Vernon’s smile turned a little more into a frown as he bent over in his chair and reached as far as he could without having to get up from his seat. His spine, having been stretched further than it had been in weeks, popped audibly and his fingers reached out, barely managing to get hold of their target after three or four tries.

Vernon turned around and chucked the pen at the boy’s face without warning, but it was caught easily with cat-like smoothness.

“Thanks.” The boy’s face was round and became even more so as he smiled, making him look a lot younger all of a sudden.

“Thought you only wrote in pencil?” Vernon asked, a frown visible in the crinkle of his thick pair of eyebrows, but he didn't wait for an explanation and simply turned back around.

The boy had finally taken his seat (though it didn't make a lot of difference for his height), seemingly content with the retrieval of Wonwoo’s pen, which, Wonwoo realized, he should probably thank him for.

He muttered something along the lines of a thank you, carefully taking the pen from a skinny, short-fingered hand.

“No problem. I love seeing Vernon challenge his laziness.”

“I can hear you, Wooz,” Vernon said without turning his head.

The boy managed to look a calm and collected evil with just the slightest twist of his lips. “See? Won't move a muscle unless he absolutely has to.”

Vernon flipped him off and a lanky guy sitting next to him burst into a fit of laughter.

“I'm Woozi, by the way,” the round-faced boy said.

Wonwoo thought there ought to be a handshake at some point but Woozi didn't exactly look like he was waiting for one. Instead, Wonwoo nodded. “Wonwoo.”

Woozi — though Wonwoo doubted that was his real name — smiled and nodded, his gaze wandering from his face to the blackboard at the front of the class and staying there until the teacher came in. Wonwoo watched from the corner of his eye as Woozi got his book out of his bag and opened it several pages further in than Wonwoo was, tilting each page with a care Wonwoo didn't understand. He was indeed using a pencil.

After the bell rang, everyone frantically and hastily stuffed their books and notebooks in their backpacks and got up in an attempt to arrive at the cafeteria before the mass did. Wonwoo was no different, only he did it to get lost in the mass. Walking alone in an empty hallway was asking for trouble.

As if by will of the gods, the current of student bodies in the hallway steered him along to the cafeteria with Woozi at his side. They didn't talk but it felt nice not being alone and Woozi didn't seem uncomfortable with Wonwoo’s presence either. Vernon was nowhere to be found; he'd excused himself to the bathroom fifteen minutes after class started and had never returned. Wonwoo had seen the lanky guy sitting next to Vernon in class take his bag.

Wonwoo sat down next to Woozi at one of the smaller round tables, grateful it wasn't one of those huge groups he’d gotten into. He didn't like big groups. Made it hard to follow the conversation and there'd just be too many people to ignore him when he spoke.  
His hand slid into his backpack and his fingertips just brushed the cold plastic of his new lunchbox when a buzz of conversation hit his ears, gradually becoming louder until it was impossible to ignore the words — or the people they came from.

“I told you, Gyu: I'll have to redo the year if I don't pass this exam — and what's worse, Woozi will _kill me_ for wasting his time tutoring me.” It came from Vernon, blond and bright, though he wasn't wearing his trademark smirk now, who shot a nervous glance or two in Woozi’s direction and, noticing the latter was too occupied eating his lunch to pay much attention to anything else, decided it was safe enough to sit down across from him, his backpack landing on the table with a bang and his feet swiftly following as he threw them up on the surface, his body sagging down in his chair.

“That's the worst excuse I've ever heard,” a steady voice said, loaded with a kind of confidence Wonwoo would never ever admit to being jealous of. Of course, it was that tall guy, apparently called Gyu or something. “Woozi is going to kick your ass sooner or later anyway. Wooz, tell him.”

Seconds after Gyu-or-something’s gaze landed on Woozi, Woozi looked up from where he'd carefully been cutting his apple into even parts. He looked from Gyu-or-something to Vernon and back to his knife. “Mingyu’s right. You _are_ rather vexing, Vern.”

Vernon scoffed and rolled his eyes at Mingyu — Gyu, the tall guy — who stuck out his tongue at him like a big baby.

Despite the lighthearted death threats from Woozi’s side, Wonwoo’s muscles tensed at the mere presence of Mingyu — whose name he now knew — and he stood up, excusing himself. The chair scraped loudly over the floor and he flinched.

“I, ah, left my lunch in my locker,” he announced to no one in particular. Woozi looked up at him, his eyes a little wider than usual. “See you in class.”

His limbs trembled as he swung his bag over his shoulder and took big strides until he reached the entrance. A little slower, he walked to a picnic table on the school grounds and sat down, his heart pounding in his chest.

Of course. Of course it had been that Mingyu guy.

He could almost hear him, taking Woozi by the arm, gently pulling him a little closer and telling him in an important and concerned tone of voice about a new transfer student who needed a little help.

Wonwoo realized he'd clasped his hands into fists and tried to relax. Breathing in the fresh air, he closed his eyes and let the cold pierce his lungs and soothe his temper. When he opened them again, all he felt was disappointment. He was alone again. Sitting alone out in the cold. This time it was definitely his own fault.

He was considering going back inside when someone sat down next to him. He hoped it was Woozi but he didn't need to look to know it wasn't.

“Are you all right?” Mingyu asked. At least his voice didn't sound as degrading as Wonwoo’d imagined.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, not looking at Mingyu. “Yes, I'm fine. Go back to your friends.”

“Come with me.” It sounded like a question and it made Wonwoo look up. Mingyu’s hands were spread on the table, his back straight and his brows raised.

He considered for a moment, then shook his head.

“Please?” Mingyu's eyes were big and round and some deep shade of hazel, but if he thought that was going to work on Wonwoo he was sorely mistaken.

Goosebumps were starting to spread on Wonwoo’s skin and he folded his arms, looking Mingyu in the eye. “No.”

The lines around Mingyu's mouth hardened somewhat. “Why not?”

“I don't want to.”

“What, you'd rather sit alone in the cold?” Wonwoo didn't reply and Mingyu’s face smoothed into a pout. “I bet you would've sat at that table with Wooz and Vernon if it weren't for me.”

Wonwoo didn't respond and Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Come on, man, what'd I do?”

“I can make my own friends, thank you very much.”

“I never said you couldn't.”

“Not all communication is verbal.”

“Talking is pretty essential, though.”

“With you it is, maybe.” He almost felt proud when Mingyu pressed his lips together in annoyance. “Listen, I'm not here to make you feel good about yourself. If you want someone to count on you and depend on you; you can get a problematic old dog from the shelter and care for it until it dies in your loving arms. I don't need your pity.” The words came out a lot sharper than he'd intended and he stood up and turned around before he could apologize. He walked inside and to the nearest staircase to seek refuge in the library for the remaining time of lunch break.

He made sure neither Mingyu, Woozi or Vernon sat down next to him in any of his following classes, choosing to sit next to complete strangers who didn't say anything instead. It was awkward and quiet and everything was as it was supposed to be.

Until inevitably the next Math class came around and he ended up sitting next to Woozi again.

Woozi sat down as if nothing had happened and this time Wonwoo didn't send his pen flying. Instead he wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffled. His stupid ass shouldn't have chosen to sit outside when he knew his resistance was already low due to the weather. He hated autumn. At least during the winter he knew what he was in for and he could wear two sweaters on top of each other without problem, but autumn was so unpredictable, so in between, it always made him feel a little lost.

“Got a cold?” Woozi asked.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

A tissue was tossed onto his desk. “At least use this. Seeing you use your sleeve makes me want to chuck my lunch in the bin.”

Wonwoo studied his face to see whether he was for real or not, but Woozi’s expression was unrelenting. “Uh, thanks, I think.” He wiped his nose — with the tissue this time. “And sorry.”

Woozi's small shoulders shrugged. “It's fine. Just don't expect me to shake your hand on your birthday if it's any time soon.”

This time Wonwoo discovered one of the corners of Woozi's lips twitched a little, and he smiled. “Don't worry, I'm a sweet summer child.”

“Not to mention disgusting.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that too.”

Woozi stared ahead of him in silence for a bit and Wonwoo did the same, his smile softening and his thoughts wandering.

“Why don't you like Gyu?”

The smile dropped right off his face. “What?”

“I think you heard me.” The only reason Wonwoo could hold his temper was the matter-of-fact way Woozi had said it, voice level and semi-uninterested, ready to drop the subject as if it wasn't important.

Wonwoo rested his chin in his palm. “He keeps mingling himself in my business. It's annoying.”

“He only wants to be friends with you.”

“He only wants me to be friends with him, that's something else entirely.” It wasn't up for debate. Wonwoo didn't like him and that was that.

Woozi tilted his head a little. “Is it really so bad you can't even sit with us?” Wonwoo bit the inside of his cheek, wobbling his knee up and down. “I mean, we could sit at a bigger table and we could have him sit all the way on the other end…”

“Nah,” Wonwoo said, scrunching his nose, “I'm good.” It was an automatic response. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Bending over his desk, Woozi looked at him sideways, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. He opened his book just as the teacher came in.

*

He'd taken to the library in his breaks. Officially, eating wasn't allowed there but Wonwoo made sure all his breadcrumbs fell in his lunchbox and the librarians never made a point of it.

The air was slightly chilly, as if there were any books in here that were important and ancient enough they needed preserving, but the sun shone through big windows and onto the pages of whatever book Wonwoo would be reading.

When he was a kid his mom once took him to the doctor for indigestion and the doctor told him he had to stop reading while eating because he was too distracted to chew his food properly. He nearly cried. Now he took care to thoroughly chew his food before swallowing.

“Hey.”

Wonwoo nodded absent-mindedly. He was already reading and chewing and he couldn't divide his attention any further. Besides, he already knew who it was.

One seat away from him a chair was lifted and put down again a little further from the table. They took a seat and quietly shuffled closer to the table, grabbing their lunch from their bag along with a heavy book on Egyptian history.

It was the library kid Wonwoo met a few times that he could not for the life of him recall the name of even though the kid had clearly said it when he’d introduced himself.

When Wonwoo had started reading _The Watchmaker Of Filligree Street_ , the first book in his new stash that had arrived in the mail the day before, the library had been almost deserted. He'd heard about some event for first years today, which meant enough peace and silence at the study tables in the hallways and most students choosing to sit there instead of the library. Wonwoo liked it here though, and he’d embraced the comfortable and casual atmosphere he'd felt from the moment he'd walked in and the librarian with desk duty had smiled and waved at him as if she'd known him for years. Of course he'd waved back.

There had been three other students at most; one of them sitting at the table on the other side of a low bookshelf filled with stuffy old literature books literally no one ever read. Wonwoo had seen him a few times before, always smiling softly at the librarians, taking his seat with a cat-like feel to his movements, taking a novel and a lunch pack from his messenger bag and silently sitting there enjoying both until five minutes before the bell and he'd hastily pack his stuff and take off again.

Wonwoo had gathered his courage along with his book and his lunch and had made his way over.

“Can I sit here?” he'd asked, placing his stuff on the table — he’d left one empty seat in between them on purpose.

The guy had looked up from his book. “Hm? Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo had breathed as he sat. He’d arranged his lunch and his book in front of him. “I've seen you around here often.”

“Entirely possible. I have lunch here to escape from my babbling best friend.”

“Oh, sorry.”

The guy had tilted his head, straw-colored bangs falling into his eyes.

“For ruining your quiet moment.”

“Oh, that.” It had been almost inaudible. “Don't worry about it, I don't mind a little chat. It's more that I need a break from his personality at least twice a day to remain sane.”

Wonwoo’s lips had twitched a little and he'd smiled, receiving a dopey smile in return. They'd both turned their attention to their respective books and spent the rest of the break in comfortable silence.

It wasn't until after a few of these shared lunch breaks that Wonwoo had introduced himself. The kid had ducked his head a little and murmured his own name, but Wonwoo had almost immediately forgotten it. Maybe because it had sounded so similar Mingyu’s name and his brain panicked. It had sounded a little like Moam. Mimao, Mimoa?

Anyway, he wasn't planning on letting him know he'd forgotten his name and he sure as hell wasn't asking for it again, so he avoided having to say his name and simply went with “hi” instead - or in this case, a single nod and hum.

When he finished the chapter, he brought his bookmark into place and stretched his arms above head. “How’s your day?” he asked.

The kid opened his lunch package without sound — which was really a hard thing to do because he'd wrapped his bread and fruit in aluminium foil. “It was okay. Had an argument with my History teacher,” he admitted, ears turning an angry red at the memory. “He doesn't know shit about anything, really.”

Wonwoo laughed. “Wow. I'd never stand up to a teacher like that.”

“I only do when they're preaching blatant lies, it's unacceptable,” he said, carefully folding away the aluminium foil to reveal three peanut butter sandwiches and an apple.

“Can't argue with that.” Wonwoo dove into his own sandwich and chewed in silence for a bit. He watched the sun peek out from behind the clouds, illuminating the guy’s brightly colored hair. “How’d you decide to dye your hair bright yellow, anyway?”

The kid blinked at the sudden question and hurried to swallow his food. “Bleach went wrong,” he said, wiping the crumbs from his mouth with his thumb, “I ended up with some pissyellow but didn't want to bleach it further in fear of having no hair at all, so I decided to dye it a hopefully less-awful yellow instead. ”

“It looks good.”

“Thanks,” he murmured before hiding his face behind his book. His ears peeked out from behind it, they were a little pink.

*

Wonwoo was enjoying his Tony’s Chocolonely in silence. Occasionally his library friend would flip the page of his book and a murmur rose here and there, but Wonwoo preferred this comfortable almost-silence over the cold absence of any sound. The last bit of chocolate had melted on his tongue and he sighed, completely content, and took up his book, starting to read where he'd left off.

From the corner of his eye he saw movement, someone maneuvering past their table. No, wait, they lingered.

He looked up from his book and straight into Mingyu's eyes. They were bright and a little hopeful, but Wonwoo turned him down with a cold hard stare, almost as if to dare him to even open his mouth.

Mingyu’s jaw worked for a moment and then his shoulders sagged and he started to turn away.

“Gyu, what's up!” It was the library kid. Wonwoo couldn't help but feel a little betrayed — did everyone in this school adore Mingyu or what?

“Hao, hey!” Mingyu turned, tearing his gaze away from Wonwoo. Hao — _Minghao_ , that was his name. Wonwoo hated how Mingyu had been the one to remind him. “I'm looking for a book about ants. Woozi says they never sleep but I'm sure I read somewhere that they _do_ …”

“Oh. Don't waste your time. They don't,” Minghao countered, looking apologetic for proving him wrong, “Or at least, they get a minimum amount of rest. They work in shifts and chill in between, though.”

“Why do people know this?” Mingyu threw his hands up in the air with no small amount of drama. “Why is this a thing you people know? You don't even like ants, nobody likes ants!” He sighed and deflated. “What are you up to anyway?”

Minghao’s face broke into a light smile. “Oh, you know, getting my moment of quiet for the day,” he said, lifting his book from the surface of the table.

“Better enjoy it while it lasts. Jun’s in a good mood today.”

The smile on Minghao's lips turned a little sideways. “Exactly.”

Mingyu’s gaze flicked towards Wonwoo and his ever radiant smile faltered for a second. From the miniscule tilt of Minghao’s head Wonwoo could tell he’d noticed. He didn't think anything went past those piercing eyes of his; they sparked with curiosity as they alternated between Wonwoo and Mingyu but Wonwoo refused the embarrassment creeping up his spine, staring back at Mingyu mercilessly.

Standing up right, Mingyu cleared his throat. “I'd better get back to Wooz and admit my defeat.” His eyes were fixed on Minghao but Wonwoo couldn't help but feel the words were somewhat directed towards him.

“Right. Good luck!” Minghao called after him softly, watching him go. Mingyu waved without turning around.

Minghao didn't say anything else, he just continued to flick through his book, fingers rubbing the corners of the page as they'd always done, but Wonwoo found it hard to concentrate — flashes of that first meeting shooting through his head.


	3. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you read chapter 1 before I published this chapter, feel free to skip over this chapter. I cut up the first chapter into two parts because I decided to make the chapters a little shorter for more frequent updates. I'm uploading chapter 3 right after though, and that one's completely new!

*Wonwoo had seldomly rolled his eyes _this_ hard, but what was he to do when his English teacher paired him up with _Mingyu_ of all people? Apart from the elaborate eye roll, he thought he’d taken it rather well, spending the rest of the lesson with pure business-talk and working on their assignment. It wasn’t until the next English class came around and this lanky guy he’d seen around before took place next to him, that the trouble started.

“Hey, I’m Seokmin,” the lanky guy said, holding out his hand. His smile was wide and his face full of happy wrinkles.

Wonwoo shook his hand absentmindedly, eyes scanning the sea of students in the classroom. Weren't they supposed to work on the project? Where was Mingyu? “Wonwoo.”

“I know,” Seokmin laughed. His smile subsided when he noticed Wonwoo was barely paying attention to him. “So, uhm.” His hands passed along a pen between his fingers. “Where did you leave off?”

“Leave off?” Wonwoo frowned, finally looking at Seokmin and tilting his head sideways.

“Yeah, with the project.”

Realisation dawned on him and his mouth fell open. He clasped it shut, jaw clenching tightly. “Where’s Mingyu?”

Seokmin hesitated, small wrinkles forming on his forehead, and he reached out to touch Wonwoo’s arm but thought better of it at the last moment. “I’m your new partner, if that’s okay with you. Mingyu asked me to switch. This is going to be fun!”

No, no it was not. It was _not_ okay with him and it was _not_ going to be fun.

He was used to being ignored, he was used to being the last to be picked as partner, he was used to being screwed over, but he hadn't expected it from perfect Mingyu. He curled his fingers at his sides to stop them from trembling.

At that moment, Mingyu walked in with his stupid nonchalant swagger, and Wonwoo shot up from his chair, striding over until he was face to face with that arrogant douchebag.

Mingyu blinked at him and opened his mouth to say something, but words were already tumbling from Wonwoo’s lips.

“What the hell? You just changed partners without even asking?” he demanded, squaring his shoulders. Mingyu’s eyes darted over his face. “Just because someone doesn't bow at your feet doesn't mean you have the right to treat them like garbage, you dick!”

Something flickered in Mingyu's gaze, the faintest spark of understanding and a whole lot of pity. Good lord, would Mingyu ever stop pitying him so much?

Someone cleared his throat. “I'd like to know the reason behind that less than sanitary word being used in _my_ classroom.”

Wonwoo hadn't noticed Mr. Seo come in. He swallow and looked at his feet, and just hoped the word Mr. Seo was referring to was ‘garbage’. Before he could say anything, Mingyu piped up.

“I'm sorry, sir. I thought Wonwoo didn't want to be partners with me so I swapped with Seokmin.”

“You don't want to be Mingyu's partner?” Mr. Seo asked, his eyebrows pretty much disappearing into his hairline. There probably weren't many people who'd turn down a partnership with one of the most popular and good looking guys in a twenty kilometer radius.

Wonwoo crossed his arms, painfully aware of all the eyes on him. He chewed on his bottom lip.

“We don't get along very well—” Mingyu started to explain.

Mr. Seo raised his hand, “I'm asking Wonwoo.” His voice wasn't unkind or sharp or impatient, but his eyes were too bright. Almost as if he was enjoying this anomaly. “Do you want to be his partner or not?”

Wonwoo breathed in through his nose and raised his chin. “Preferably not.”

“But you don't want to change partners?”

“No.” Blood rushed in his ears. He no longer heard any of the whispers around him, or maybe everyone had just fallen silent. His nails dug into his palms. Mr. Seo was saying something but it didn't process in his mind and he sat down instead of replying.

Mr. Seo opened his mouth to say something else when Mingyu cut in, saying, “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't ask him before switching and I realize now that wasn't a nice thing to do. It's not his fault.”

The words were clear as day and rang in Wonwoo’s head. Of course perfect Mingyu would take all the blame — anything to protect poor Wonwoo.

Through the thumping of his heart he could barely hear Mr. Seo reply.

“It doesn't matter. You're both staying when class is over.”

Great. Just great.

*

_Wonwoo sighed and hunched further over the table in order to drown out the noise all around him. He wasn’t loving his beloved library that much today. It was the day before book finals, and everyone who hadn’t done anything to prepare for it all year were now frantically searching for information, summaries and book reports, and exchanging notes and thoughts, and they didn’t feel like doing it silently — despite the library obviously being a place of peace and quiet._

_So why was Wonwoo here again? Ah, yes, the new kitchen was being placed today and his father had ushered him out of the house and insisted he study in the library for better focus and, consequently, better grades. In all honesty Wonwoo thought his grade had dropped by at least a full mark from just listening to the nonsense some of these students were gushing. It had taken him a whole five minutes of trying to concentrate before he’d gotten his headphones out and blasted some nice symphonic death metal into his ears. While the guitar and grunting melted into a perfect noise cancelling machine, his fingers were still itchy and his eyes kept wandering away from his notes whenever someone passed his table._

_Fortunately he was pretty well prepared; he’d kept up with reading literature this year; he’d read a literature book for every casual book he read, switching them up. Finishing a boring book was a lot easier to do when you could finally start that book you’d wanted to read for a while afterwards. All he had to do now was remember some book snob’s fake deep insights but it made him boil a little on inside because he’d actually read the book this guy was talking about and hey it wasn’t actually that good okay? He’d read better._

_An earphone was forcefully yanked away. Wonwoo brought a hand to his now sore ear and looked up, ready to glower at whoever had done him such injustice. He’d expected someone passing by, already well on their way and oblivious to their slight. Instead he found himself in the company of two other boys, both taller than him and towering over him._

_“Studying how to be a faggot?” one of them sneered, sitting sideways on his desk. His face was pink and dotted with fresh pimples and here and there a slight patch of fluffy stubble, which he no doubt thought was cool but really just made him look a bit pitiful to Wonwoo._

_The one closest to him, the one who’d plucked his earphone out, circled behind him and leaned his arms on Wonwoo’s backrest. “No need,” he whispered in Wonwoo’s ear, “He’s already a pro.”_

_Wonwoo recoiled at the warm breath hitting his skin, a shiver running down his spine, his fingers frozen around the corner of his page, but he refused to respond, staring intently at his notes instead._

_“Aw, look, you’ve made him blush!” the one with the pimples said, showing a row of broad, yellow teeth. Wonwoo knew him vaguely. He was in his class, he thought, or otherwise he was just one of those assholes from school. There were a lot of those. Wonwoo didn’t bother learning their names — they were all the same anyway. “He’s all tongue-tied!”_

_Wonwoo clenched his jaw and focussed on breathing in his lower stomach in an attempt to distract himself from the pounding of his heart._

_There was a bang and someone yelled “ow!” close to his ear, making him jump._

_“What the — ow!” the boy closest to him whirled around, rubbing his sore shin, and froze in place. He was looking at something or someone behind Wonwoo. Something in the air shifted. “You,” he said, gritting his teeth, though his hands trembled at his sides. They folded into fists._

_“Get out,” a new voice said. It was cold and trembled with, what, anger or fear?_

_The two boys hesitated, exchanged glances and eventually took off, but not after one of them had spat on the ground — at which Wonwoo raised his eyebrows._

_Another boy came into view; tall and way too lean for someone his age. His eyes lingered in the direction the two boys had made off in until they were out of sight, then he raked a hand through his dark mop of hair, and his shoulders relaxed._

_Wonwoo watched as the boy turned around and changed his expression from weary to easy smile, a smile that was wide and bright and involved the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Hey,” the boy said, pulling out a chair and flopping down into it, resting his arms on the table but careful not to mess up Wonwoo’s notes. “You good?”_

_The twitch of Wonwoo’s lips would have to pass for a smile._

_“Are they in your class?” the boy asked, his impressively shaped eyebrows curling into a frown._

_Wonwoo shrugged, “Same school.” He didn’t like the way the boy’s eyes softened as they took him in. “It’s fine,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, “They’re not the worst.”_

_“Sadly not. They used to be classmates of mine, before I transfered — I’m at Plinton High now, I think you’d like it there.”_

_“Sure.”_

_A moment of silence passed._

_“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, you know.”_

_Wonwoo blinked. Was this guy being serious? “It’s not me that needs telling, buddy.” It came out as a bit of a snap but he couldn’t say he felt sorry about it._

_The boy’s face fell like a stone, his lips turning pouty. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I know.” Something dark flashed in his eyes and Wonwoo could see the muscles in his jaw moving restlessly. He wondered whether it was annoyance, anger or something else. He wondered if the guy nonchalantly draped across a chair knew what he'd been through, if he'd once been like him and understood the constant lonely boredom Wonwoo suffered every day at school._

_Just like that it was gone and a gentle smile softened the boy’s features. “Anyway, I won’t keep you from your work any longer. Good luck on your test!” He patted Wonwoo’s shoulder as he stood up._

_“... Thanks.”_

_A wink and another bright smile, and he was off._

_Wonwoo watched him go with empty eyes, watched the sway of those broad shoulders, the way he held his head up high, and he realised that he’d never be like this boy. That this boy had never been like him, not even remotely, and Wonwoo’s fists clenched at how much this boy had thought he understood him. He didn’t. He never would._

*

And even now Mingyu failed to understand him as Wonwoo explained to Mr. Seo why, exactly, he didn't want to change partners. Mr. Seo had asked them if there was any bad blood between them and Wonwoo had assured him there wasn't.

“I barely know him and I may not like him that much but life just isn't fair and sometimes you've got to face that fact. Sometimes you've got to do things you don't like, and that's just how it is.”

Mr. Seo was quiet for a moment. With all other students gone, the silence was overwhelming, the only sound coming from the clock above the blackboard ticking time away. “Mingyu, what do you have to say for yourself? Why did you change partners all of a sudden?”

Mingyu shifted in his seat, casting Wonwoo a sideways glance. “I just thought Wonwoo might like it better with someone else as partner. It's not easy transferring schools and I didn't want to make it harder on him.”

Wonwoo thought he might throw up. Instead, he stared straight ahead and clenched his jaw.

“Hm.” Mr. Seo organized some of the papers on his desk. “That sure is very noble of you, Mingyu, but don't you think you could've made it easier by just being a good project partner for Wonwoo?”

Mingyu looked at the floor. “I suppose,” he mumbled. The victory Wonwoo felt was short-lived.

“And you, Wonwoo, was calling him out in front of the whole class really the best way to confront him about it? Didn't you think it might be better to take him apart for a moment and explain to him how he hurt your feelings?”

 _Feelings_. It wasn't his feelings that were hurt, it was his small, dented bundle of pride. “Sorry, sir,” he said, voice collected and calm.

Mr. Seo sighed. “All right, well, this is how it's going to be: it seems to me that it's for the best you're no longer partners and you'll stick to the one you've got now. Wonwoo, do you have a problem with Seokmin? No? Good, you'll do just fine. I want you both to take this project seriously and I want to see no more of this nonsense, all right? Don't try to fill in other people's thoughts, thinking for yourself is enough of a challenge as it is.”

“Yes, sir,” Mingyu and Wonwoo chorussed.

“Dismissed.”

*

Wonwoo arrived in the library feeling a little anxious and self-conscious from all the stares he'd gotten in the hall. Word sure did travel fast in this school, or maybe nothing ever happened here and this was an anomaly that needed to be talked about.

“Heard you made quite a scene today,” Minghao stated without looking up from his book about 90s fashion.

Wonwoo sighed and flopped down into his chair. “I just felt a little bypassed.”

“That's understandable.”

He felt his eyebrows raise. “It is?”

“Yeah,” Minghao flipped the page, peeking at Wonwoo from behind his glasses, “Nobody wants to be put aside like that without good reason.”

Wonwoo hummed, and relaxed into his seat, zipping his his bag open to retrieve his lunch. As his lunchbox clicked open, a terrible feeling washed over him: the feeling that Minghao was reversing the roles, and, even worse still, that he was right.

“Something wrong?” Minghao asked, not looking up from his page. His tone was perfectly neutral, without scorn or sarcasm, but his Wonwoo would've sworn the corner of his mouth twitched a little.

“No.” Wonwoo sat up straighter, “Everything's fine.”

*

“Want to join us? Hey, I said do you want to join us. Hey. Hey, Wonwoo. Hey!”

It actually took him that long to realize Seokmin was talking to him. He lifted his head from where it had been resting on his arms and blinked as he let his gaze settle on Seokmin’s face whose brows were raised in anticipation. “Sorry, what?”

Seokmin’s lips curled upwards as he looked down on him. “Do you want to join our group or not?” Wonwoo froze. He should probably say something but his tongue stuck to his mouth. “Ah, of course you don't have to if you don't want to, I just thought… Whatever you want, buddy,” Seokmin said. His face fell a little with the weight of confusion and maybe embarrassment, and he raised his hand to pat Wonwoo on the arm before thinking the better of it and turning around.

Wonwoo scraped his throat and finally managed to say a word or two. “Uh, yeah. That'd be nice.”

Seokmin turned back to face him within a split second, almost as if he'd been expecting it. “Really? Ah, cool! Cool.” He beamed at him and Wonwoo’s throat felt tight. Elbowing his neighbor in the ribs, Seokmin said, “Hey, Wooz, Wonwoo’s gonna be our partner.”

Woozi looked up, raising his brows, and looked at Wonwoo. He nodded at him and even graced him with a smile. “Sweet.”

Wonwoo felt his heart thump against his ribs, the classroom beginning to spin. “Excuse me,” he mumbled — if it even came out at all. Before he knew it he was standing up and walking to the door and somehow he'd made his way to the bathroom.

He leaned his hands on the sides of the sink, the porcelain cool against his palms. A drop of water fell from the tap with a soft patter sound and slowly made its way down the drain. Wonwoo pressed his eyes shut and let his head hang as he tried to breathe like a normal human being.

The AC rattled somewhere above him. The ugly marine stalls were all empty, the blue walls echoing only his own breathing and the squeaking of his soles on the tiles.

He took a few deep breaths before looking up into the mirror. His mouth was set in a tight line, jaw clenched, but apart from the glimmer in his eyes he looked like he always did, and he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

The door squeaked as someone yanked it open, letting in the voices and murmuring from the hallway before it closed again. Another person was standing inside. Wonwoo would’ve known who it was by the pair of faded blue Converse alone.

“Hey,” he said, averting his eyes to the mirror. His throat was still tight as he spoke.

“Hey,” Mingyu said. The fabric of his pants rustled as he put his hands in his pockets. “Are you okay?”

Wonwoo nodded, clenching his jaw and staring at his own reflection rather than at Mingyu. “Did Seokmin text you?”

“Woozi, actually.” Wonwoo saw Mingyu shrug from the corner of his eye. “They knew I had this period off, so…”

So they really cared enough about him to send someone to check up on him, even if it was Mingyu. Wonwoo chewed on his bottom lip, watching another drop journeying from the tap to the drain. “They asked me to be their project partner.”

Mingyu was uncharacteristically quiet. His shoulders rose and fell evenly with his breathing and tensed when he spoke. “Well, that's good, isn't it?”

He nodded. “It is.” And he meant it. It was good, really good. For the first time in as long as he could remember, someone had actually willingly, completely on their own accord — as their own idea — asked him to be a project partner, and because of him personally rather than his grades. And it felt so good. He'd forgotten what it was like to feel this way, or maybe he'd never felt like this before.

“Why did you bolt?”

The truth was, Wonwoo wasn't sure either and he’d sort of hoped people person Mingyu would come with one of his brilliant human behavior revelations and help him out. A small chuckle bubbled from Wonwoo’s throat and he turned, “It’s okay, I'm fine.” Because he was. He felt fine. He felt like he was doing fine like most other people were doing fine. He felt normal for once, and he struggled not to burst out laughing.

Mingyu's lips stuck together a little as he gaped at him, eyes glittering and head tilting. “Are you sure?” His voice trembled a little, his lips twitching.

And then Wonwoo burst, first just a snort but soon his bellowing laughter bounced off the bathroom walls and were eventually joined by Mingyu’s doubtful but infectious chuckles, and he realized it was so ridiculous, so stupid.

All this time he'd let people stomp on him, point and laugh at him, shove him and calling him names, throwing his backpack out of the window from the top floor and worse, and he'd never wasted his breath or energy on any of them, not even those douchebags that made him leave school.

And here Mingyu was, trying to actually help him, and Wonwoo had treated him like he was his arch nemesis. But he wasn't. Not even close.

Wonwoo shook his head, laughter sticking at the back of his throat. “You're right. What did you ever really do to me?” Mingyu blinked, looking at him intently. “I'm sorry, man. I… If you still want, I'll give you a chance.”

Mingyu’s face split into a grin so wide Wonwoo didn't think it was physically possible. “Really?”

Wonwoo pressed his lips together in a smile. “Yeah, really.”

“Oh man, awesome!” Mingyu raised his arms as if he were going in for a hug but changed his mind last minute and just waved them above his head awkwardly. His face was glowing.

Wonwoo couldn't help but laugh again and he shook his head, peeking up at Mingyu from underneath his lashes. He wanted to say something but he didn't know what. He'd become skilled at analyzing feelings of dissatisfaction and discomfort, but this bubbly feeling in his chest was new to him and he wasn't sure what to do with it.

“Sorry,” Mingyu blurted, relaxing his shoulders and hiding his hands in his pockets. “I'll behave.”

“You better.” Wonwoo smiled. “Tell me something, though.” Mingyu nodded eagerly. “Why do you want to be friends with me so bad?”

It was silent for a moment and Wonwoo realized anyone could walk in at any given moment. He shifted his feet.

Mingyu shrugged. “I think you're cool.” The harsh lighting emphasized the wrinkles in his forehead.

Cool? Wonwoo jutted his bottom lip out. “Well then, you're going to be gravely disappointed.”

Pointy canines showed when Mingyu grinned. “We'll see about that.”


	4. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been ages but the story is so long and I don't write chronologically at all so it takes a while for an actual chapter to be finished, I'm sorry. I have decided to make the chapters shorter though (about 3k instead of 6k) and I hope this will improve the rate at which I update.
> 
> Please enjoy the new chapter! x

People looked at him differently now. People looking at him was new in the first place, but the eyes on him in the cafeteria, the hallways and classrooms weren’t like Wonwoo had ever seen them — at least, not on him; they were curious, prying, but they held back, seemed to respect his person. They didn't ask questions, although everyone had to be wondering why the new kid had suddenly gone from fighting the popular guy to sitting next to him almost every break, a smile even slipping from his lips every now and then.

He couldn't help it. With Mingyu by his side, he felt like he didn't need to fear the crowd. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

“Hello? Earth to Wonwoo?” Mingyu snapped his fingers, “Hello?”

Wonwoo blinked, gave his head a shake and looked at Mingyu. “Hm?” The crowd was moving on either side of them but the two of them were perfectly still in the middle. No one even so much as bumped into them.

“You zoned out again,” Mingyu said, eyes concerned but glittering.

“Ah.”

“You do that a lot, don't you?”

Wonwoo shrugged, “I guess so.” Mingyu was right. He did zone out a lot but it had never been a problem before when no one talked to him anyway.

A small smile played on Mingyu’s lips and Wonwoo hated that he had no idea what he was thinking. He squinted as if that would help him understand better.

Mingyu started walking again and Wonwoo followed. “What do you think about when you zone out?”

“Uhm,” Wonwoo fumbled with the strap of his messenger bag, “All sorts of things. Or nothing.”

“What sorts of things? School things? Home things? Scary things? Cute things? Babies, puppies, kittens?”

Wonwoo smiled. “Definitely kittens.”

“Good.” Mingyu slowed in his step to let Wonwoo catch up on him. “Happy thoughts make a happy person.”

Wonwoo said nothing.

They crossed the hall and entered the cafeteria through the double doors, held open by two hooks in the wall.

“Ah,” Mingyu said, turning to look at Wonwoo, “Seems like Boo left his sickbed. Come on.” He put a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder and guided him towards their usual table — Wonwoo guessed it was supposed to make him feel comfortable but all it did was fuel his nerves; he felt like he was going to meet the president or someone near that importance.

Inwardly panicking, he breathed in and out to the full, forcing his hands to relax at his sides. This would be no different from the other guys, and he got along with them just fine.

They neared the group. This time there was a short, bubbly boy with a round face and expensive looking clothes, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “This is the kid who ran from Gyu?”

Wonwoo’s mouth moved soundlessly before he finally found some words. “I didn't… Run from him.”

“Don't mind him,” Vernon piped up, appearing from behind the short guy. “Wonwoo, meet Seungkwan. Subtlety isn't one of his charms.”

Woozi, leaning back in his chair, snorted and popped an orange part into his mouth in its entirety. “Seungkwan doesn't have any charms,” he said, being very charming himself by talking with his mouth full.

Seungkwan raised his brows, head slowly  turning in Woozi’s direction. “Excuse me?”

If Seungkwan had looked at Wonwoo the way he looked at Woozi now, Wonwoo would've ran, but Woozi packed up the remains of his orange, put them away in his lunchbox and flung his hands behind his head, back to balancing his chair on two legs. “Prove me wrong. Name _one_ thing that's charming about you.”

“His butt,” Vernon said without a moment's hesitation. It earned him a whack on the shoulder from Seungkwan.

“Inappropriate.”

Woozi pursed his lips and hummed. “Okay, I'll give you that.”

“I'm so glad I rarely have to introduce you guys,” Mingyu sighed, “I'm going to get my lunch, I'll be right back,” and walked away. Wonwoo wanted to follow him but for something kept his feet from moving.

“Besides,” Seungkwan fired back at Woozi, cheeks a little red, “Didn't you make your science partner cry last month because you demanded to know if there was anything he was actually capable of?”

“Hardly my fault. Seokmin cries easily.”

“Don't drag me into this! ” Seokmin announced from the other side of the table, looking up at the sound of his name. He continued untying the knot of the plastic bag that held his sandwiches.

In the heat of their argument, Seungkwan, Woozi and Vernon seemed to have forgotten Wonwoo entirely. He didn't mind. Choosing to sit next to Seokmin, he fumbled with his fingers. “You know, it's actually partially genetic.”

Seokmin raised his brows and blinked. “Hm?”

“Whether you cry easily or not, it's partly because of your genes.”

“Oh,” Seokmin said. “Cool.” He went to take a bite from his tuna sandwich, paused, then frowned. “How do you know this stuff, anyway?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Don't know. Must've read it somewhere, I guess. Maybe a documentary?”

Seokmin’s eyes widened, “There's a documentary on _crying_? They should've asked me, I'm a field expert!” He laughed. “It's fine, they tease me about it all the time.” His words came easy and his eyes were friendly, but something about his mouth was tight.

Wonwoo nodded. “Okay.”

“What about you, do you cry a lot?”

Wonwoo’s hands fell in his lap. He stared at them. “Never,” he mumbled.

*

It wasn't until a week later that Seungkwan decided to grace Wonwoo with his personal attention and actually spoke to him.

“So, why’d you transfer? In the middle of the semester?”

If it were a few weeks back, Wonwoo would've been prepared for the unpleasant question, but now, after everyone had been nice and had tiptoed around the subject, Wonwoo found himself a little flustered. (Though, if it had to be anyone to put the question out there, he would definitely have put his money on Seungkwan).

He tried not to notice the sudden hush in the conversations around him, tried not to notice the slight turn of Woozi’s head or the tapping of Seokmin’s fingers on the table.

Wonwoo swallowed and decided to speak the truth. “I was harassed.” Well, part of the truth, at least.

Seungkwan looked unsurprised, “Bullied huh? Transferred here for the zero-tolerance?” Wonwoo nodded. “Well, don't get too comfortable. People will always find ways to hurt one another, even the people you'll least expect. It may feel safe in here, but out there the world is still shitty.”

“All right, that's enough, Kwannie,” Vernon spoke, removing his feet from the table and shuffling closer to Wonwoo, almost as if to protect him from Seungkwan's harsh words.

“Agreed,” Mingyu said, folding his hands in front of him, “Do you charm all new students like this?”

Seungkwan sat a little straighter, unfazed. “Only once they've transferred.”

Mingyu snorted, and Wonwoo tried to smile for him.

“Don't worry,” Vernon said in a hushed tone, “You're safe here. That's all that matters.

*

It was near the end of the afternoon and he was walking alongside Mingyu towards the bike racks when he spotted him. The strong jawline, the broad nose, it had to be him.

Mingyu rambled on as he bent over his bike and undid the lock. “Last year he just went missing for—”

Wonwoo grabbed his arm, looking over Mingyu’s shoulder to watch the figure by the school gates.

“What is it?” Mingyu asked, voice hushed. He looked over his shoulder. “What is it, what's wrong?”

It was getting harder to breathe and Wonwoo swallowed hard, “The guy at the gate, he's from my old school — no, don't look around!” His fingers dug into the fabric of Mingyu’s jacket even deeper.

Mingyu eyed Wonwoo’s hand before cursing under his breath. “What do we do? Is he coming our way?”

Wonwoo shook his head, his eyes still fixated on the gates. “No, he's just… Standing there. Like he's waiting for someone.” _What if I am that someone?_ He didn't dare saying it out loud, he barely dared to think it.

“All right, how about we wait inside until he leaves?” Mingyu's tone had changed into one with an air of authority. He snapped his fingers, “Hey, look at me. Nothing’s going to happen here, all right? There's teachers around and we can call your parents to get you home if need be. I'm not leaving you, okay?”

Curling his fingers in his gloves, Wonwoo heaved a deep breath and breathed it out into the cold air in a swirl of white. His eyes focused on Mingyu's face before they flicked towards the gates again. Mingyu’s eyes were round and honest, and Wonwoo wanted to believe him, he really did, but he'd heard the words so many times. _Nothing can happen to you here_. He'd been stupid enough to believe them before.

“Can you talk to me, please,” he said after a moment. “You were saying something — someone disappearing?” From the corner of his eye he could see Mingyu frown.

“Oh, uhm,” Mingyu's gaze turned skyward as he did his best to recall what they had been talking about. “Well, last year Vernon disappeared for, like, three days, and no one knew where he went; not the teachers, not even Seungkwan. I'd never seen him so worried before and I've never seen him so worried since.” Mingyu snorted, and Wonwoo found himself relax just a little. “He was in a terrible mood for days, no one dared to come close to him until at the end of the third day our History teacher approached him and told us that Vernon had been sick and his parents had forgotten to call the school.”

Wonwoo was so perplexed his eyes swerved to Mingyu’s for a second. “They just _forgot_ to call?”

“Apparently.” Mingyu licked his lips.

“Vernon must take after his parents,then.”

Mingyu chuckled. “I never met them, but probably.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, visibly trying not to look over his shoulder. “Is he still there?” Wonwoo nodded. “What’s he doing? Has he noticed you?”

“I don't think so. He'... oh, he's... he's greeting someone. Now they're — they're walking away, taking a left.” He paused. “Okay, they're gone.” Only now did Wonwoo realise the force with which he was gripping at the fabric of Mingyu’s jacket. He let go hastily, fighting the blush threatening to appear on his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he forced his shoulders to relax.

He was okay. He was gone, Wonwoo was okay.

“You okay?” Mingyu asked.

"Yeah."

“Want me to take you home?”

Wonwoo’s head snapped up and he sent Mingyu an annoyed look before catching himself and sighing. “No, thanks. I have to go the other way he does, I'll be fine.”  


*

Mingyu had asked Wonwoo if he could join him in the library for lunch break because he hadn't been able to finish his homework for Maths yet. He'd complained about it with so much feeling Wonwoo couldn't bear to decline, and so it came to be that this time there were three sitting around their usual table.

As Wonwoo grabbed his lunchbox and put it down on the table, he remembered sitting here with Minghao when Mingyu had come up to them to chat. He remembered turning Mingyu the coldest shoulder he'd ever given anyone, and an icy prickle ran up his arms. All he could do was hope Mingyu had long since forgotten — or rather forgiven.

He sniffed and shook himself out of it, opening his lunchbox with a click. He could feel Minghao's eyes on him as if he had been thinking about the exact same thing, but Wonwoo ignored him and stuffed his face with his Nutella sandwich.

Mingyu had retrieved his books and spread them out on the table, a pen in hand and a calculator next to him, but no lunch. Not even when Wonwoo had finished his food and had put away his lunchbox in favor of getting his book out of his bag.

Mingyu tapped the back of his pen on the table repeatedly, disturbing Wonwoo's peaceful read of a war between light and dark. He was about to say something about it but when his eyes flicked to Mingyu and saw the defeated expression on his face, he changed his mind. “You okay?”

Mingyu looked up and Wonwoo noticed his eyes were shiny. “No,” he choked out.

Wonwoo shuffled his seat closer to Mingyu's so he and his blind eyes could read the assignments, “What is it you're trying to do? Separating variables?”

“I guess.” Mingyu was staring straight at his book without seeing anything.

“Didn't we have to do that weeks ago?”

It was the wrong thing to ask. Mingyu's face crumbled even further. “I was busy,” he said meekly.

Wonwoo nodded, feeling bad about his careless words. “Alright, so where do you get stuck?”

Mingyu heaved a sigh, “At the beginning. Like this one here—” he pointed to the first exercise, “How on earth am I supposed to know what x is just from looking at the formula?”

Wonwoo squinted at the page for a bit. “Ah, okay. Well, good news: you don't have to know the actual value of x, you just have to rewrite the formula so x is expressed by using the other variables in the formula.”

“Oh.”

“You can do this by bringing everything that is not x to the other side.”

“And how do I do that?”

Wonwoo started explaining, his own book forgotten in his lap.

The lunch break wasn't nearly long enough to cover all exercises in the paragraph, but Wonwoo thought Mingyu was picking up on it well. When the bell rang, Mingyu insisted he finish the exercise before going anywhere.

Mingyu eventually stopped writing and looked up at Wonwoo, turning his notebook in Wonwoo’s direction. “Like this?”

Wonwoo zipped up his bag before letting his eyes wander to the page. He quickly scanned the steps Mingyu had taken and checked the answer. “Yeah,” he nodded, smiling reassuringly at Mingyu, “Like that.”

The sigh escaping Mingyu was a relieved one and his shoulders relaxed before he shot up straight, capping his pen and roughly shoving his books into his bag.

“Relax,” Wonwoo said, “We're already late, you might as well eat something first.”

Mingyu gave him a bewildered look before the corners of his mouth curled upwards and he laughed. “I guess I will.”

They were at least five minutes late but Mr. Seo seemed so glad to see them coming in together without picking a fight, he let them off with a warning this time.

 


	5. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm sorry it's been so long, I wasn't in a good place to write and couldn't write anything down for a while. Even though I'm a little out of practice I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter!

Wonwoo had no intention of abandoning his library friend. Not only did he enjoy Minghao’s company — even though they were mostly quietly reading —, he’d also found that, much like Minghao, he needed a break from the boisterous group of boys to make it through the day.

He walked into the library, shoes making a soppy sound with every step he took, and waved at the librarian that only worked on Thursdays. She smiled back at him with a small amount of pity in her eyes and went back to work behind her computer. Walking past the desk, he scanned the library for a familiar mop of yellow hair and set off in that direction, his pants sticking to his legs and his hair still dripping water into his eyes.

“Wow, you came by bike through this weather?” Minghao asked, his voice awed as much as it was incredulous.

“Yeah, I hate taking the bus,” Wonwoo said, flopping down into his chair with the company of a light splash when the soaked fabric of his pants hit the plastic seat. Some days Mingyu sat with them, working on Maths or a different subject with quiet determination. Today was not one of those days.

Minghao snorted and Wonwoo grinned back at him, long past the point of caring about his wet clothes. Wonwoo had always planned to have a second pair of clothes in his locker just in case, but he’d never actually done it. Maybe after today he might.

“I can help you with that,” Minghao said, nodding in his direction, “There’s hairdryers in the atelier on the first floor. It’s most likely open at this time.”

A frown appeared on Wonwoo’s brow. “You think that would be allowed?”

Minghao was already packing up his lunch and his book. He stood, waiting for Wonwoo to stand up, flung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the library. Wonwoo could do nothing but follow.

The door to the atelier had a lock but according to Minghao it was rarely ever locked. It was more to keep out unwanted visitors so the art students could have their own — much needed — space. The atelier itself wasn’t that big, but it had massive windows looking out on the busy street that ran by the front of the school. One wall was covered entirely in shelves stacked with different kinds of paper, paint, brushes and mediums, the other was decorated by many layers of paint and had several artworks in progress stuck to it. There were a few tables and chairs, but no one occupied them at the moment.

Minghao rummaged around in a drawer and retrieved the promised hairdryer, untangling its power cord from several others. “Here,” he said, handing it to Wonwoo, who took it and looked around for a power socket. “There’s one next to that table there.”

Taking a seat with him, Minghao followed Wonwoo to the socket and sat down on the chair backwards, resting his arms and chin on the backrest.

The hair dryer was noisier than Wonwoo would’ve imagined and the first burst of hot air went straight at his face, which did not help his already dry and irritated eyes at all, but it made Minghao laugh, so it wasn’t all bad.

As Wonwoo dried his hair, Minghao turned around on his chair a bit, his eyes far away and only coming back into focus as Wonwoo aimed the hairdryer at his own pants.

“I want them dry, don’t I?” Wonwoo offered, shouting over the noise. Minghao’s laughter rang into his ears again.

After minutes of blow drying, the fabric of his pants was only a little dryer than before.

“This is going to take longer than expected,” Wonwoo said by ways of an apology.

Minghao stood and opened the drawer again, taking out another two of the hairdryers. “Let’s make it go a little faster then.” He plugged the hairdryers in - the noise growing in volume — and handed one to Wonwoo, keeping the other for himself and starting to blow dry the back of Wonwoo’s pants.

Barely half a minute later the door opened, giving way to a scruffy old man wearing an overall over a white shirt covered with coloured streaks. His eyes went a little wide at the sight and Minghao and Wonwoo promptly turned off their hairdryers.

“It’s raining outside,” Wonwoo stammered by ways of an explanation, waving one of his arms in the direction of the windows.

“So it is,” the art teacher said, and left without another word.

They spent the next minutes laughing over the sound of the hairdryers.

“So,” Wonwoo said when the hilarity had faded to a comfortably amused atmosphere, “You take art?” His pants were dry by now and he was busy neatly folding the cords around the hairdryers.

A shy smile played on Minghao’s lips. “I do.”

Wonwoo hesitated and bit his lip. “Can I, uh, see some of your stuff or…?”

Minghao’s face lightened up, “Of course!” He jumped up from his chair and rushed over to a strangely vertically shaped cupboard, taking what turned out to be a folder with all his work from school so far. “We get them the year we’ve got to choose your learning profile and keep them all throughout high school,” he told Wonwoo, his fingers gently caressing the folder’s surface. It was painted on — presumably by Minghao — and displayed an array of colours and wild splashes and shapes, and although wild, it was far from careless. Minghao had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into finding the right balance in both colours and light and dark to create an image that felt a little magical.

He put it down on one of the tables and his fingers fumbled with the bows of the tied at the side and top of the folder before undoing them and carefully folding it open.

“These were from the beginning of the year when we had to practice with colours. It’s the same scene but painted in different colours every time to create a different atmosphere,” Minghao explained, showing Wonwoo a collection of similar looking paintings on paper. They all had a hallway with columns on it, the light streaming in from an unknown source to the right. One of them was painted with whites and blues and reminded Wonwoo of an ice castle, another was painted in yellow midtones with purple shadows, creating a sharp contrast and making it a little mysterious. There were several more and though it was about the colours, Wonwoo thought Minghao had done a great job on painting the same scene over and over again, and he told Minghao as much.

“Thank you,” Minghao said, his ears turning a little pink. He quickly put the hallway paintings aside and pulled a bunch of skratchy sketches from the folder. “These are from when we had to practice with light and dark and shadow,” he added, laying them out on the table. Minghao’s style might’ve looked hasty and wild first time seeing, but now Wonwoo could see he put careful consideration into the lines he put down.

Minghao put them away again and retrieved more of his art, “And these are from last month when we did model drawing for a while. Mr. Kang had other students come in and model for us and we had to draw them in ten minutes time. It was really hard to get the proportions down in so little time, but I think I got better along the way.”

The first few were a little awkward and not entirely finished. “Why are the lines so wobbly?” he blurted out, hoping he didn’t sound like an asshole.

Minghao chuckled. “I usually draw at a table, this was my first time drawing at an easel.”

He pulled the next piece from the folder and as he put it down on the table, Wonwoo was surprised he recognised the features.

“That’s Mingyu,” he gasped.

“It is,” Minghao beamed at him.

“Wow, that’s … That’s really good. I mean; I can recognise him!”

Minghao’s ears turned a darker shade of red. “Thank you. It’s probably because he’s so tall.”

Wonwoo chuckled, though he hoped Minghao wouldn't brush the compliment off so easily. “Did your teacher assign the models poses?”

Minghao pursed his lips. “He did, he told Mingyu to stand casually.”

It didn't look casual to Wonwoo. In the drawing, Mingyu had pulled up his shoulders, slumping and hunched in on himself. “Oh? When was this, is he okay now?”

“This was in the second week after you transferred.”

Wonwoo felt his shoulders slump, his heart start to sink deeper into his ribcage. “Oh.”

Nothing in Minghao’s eyes was judgemental as he said, “Don’t take it so hard, Mingyu is sensitive and desperate for validation so he took it a little harder than he should’ve.”

“Still,” Wonwoo mumbled, looking down at his hands folded in his lap, “I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t—” He sighed and tried to smile back at Minghao but it was a futile attempt. “I just don’t understand why he still wants to be my friend after all that.”

Minghao shrugged, “He’s a good guy.”

Wonwoo said nothing for a while.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said eventually.

“About Mingyu?”

“Hmhm.”

“Is it personal?”

Wonwoo huffed. “I hope not.”

Taking a seat, Minghao relented. “Okay, shoot.”

Wonwoo’s fingers pulled some more at the fabric of his jeans and he was starting to wonder whether he really wanted to know the answer at all. “I was wondering… Why is Mingyu so nice to me?”

“O-ho, hold it right there!” Minghao looked around as if to make sure no one else was hearing his outburst even though they were the only ones here. Wonwoo stared at him with wide eyes. “Just because he's gay doesn't mean he's got a crush on you, okay?”

Wonwoo wasn't sure what he did but some muscle somewhere in his face must've twitched because Minghao's brows raised. “Wait, you didn't know?”

Feeling a little embarrassed, Wonwoo shrugged, “I guess I - No one told me.”

“Oh. Yeah that makes sense. It's sort of common knowledge.”

“How so?”

“Well,” Minghao made a vague hand gesture, “He _did_ announce it in front of the whole class when he introduced himself.”

In front of the whole class? “That doesn't sound like Mingyu.”

“Yeah. I guess it just was really important to him at the time.”

“How come?”

Minghao smiled a little, “You should probably ask him about it yourself, if you really want to know.” There was something mischievous in his eyes, like he knew very well that that was _exactly_ what Wonwoo didn't want to do. 

*

Despite every PE teacher ever denying it, it is a known fact that the students they assign to pick team members are generally of the popular or tall sort (often both). Another thing that's general knowledge is that whoever the popular kids pick first, is chosen based on social construct and favor, not on skill. Wonwoo knew this begged than anyone. He was a fast runner; he was agile; he was better at sports than most, but he'd been the last man standing when everyone else had already been chosen more often than he cared to remember.

And now, being friends with someone both popular _and_ tall, it was brought to an end. Mingyu had picked Wonwoo first thing, and with burning cheeks and dragging feet Wonwoo had made his way over to stand with Mingyu, aware of every single pair of eyes on him. Somehow this was even worse than being the left over guy.

The automatic doors whooshed open as Mingyu and Wonwoo left after the lesson, taking the ten minute walk back to school. Wonwoo cleared his throat.

“Next time, uhm, could you not do that?”

“Not do what?” Mingyu asked absentmindedly, kicking at a rock on the ground. It scattered over the asphalt and came to a halt a few meters away.

“Pick me first.”

Mingyu looked up. “Why not?”

“It's just — I don't like it,” Wonwoo said.

Mingyu furrowed his brows, eyes intently studying Wonwoo's face. “All right,” he said after a while. He never asked further and Wonwoo released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Wonwoo wished he’d never asked. The next time in PE, the other team chose him first. His name fell from Sungjin’s lips and seemed to ring throughout the sport hall. Wonwoo was lost. How could they possibly have chosen him? Had other people finally noticed his swiftness or was he now labelled popular by proxy?

He shuffled from the sidelines to stand with Sungjin, who gave him a pat on the shoulder when he arrived. Refusing to meet Mingyu’s eyes, he studied the fabric of his gym shoes. Fortunately the class was almost done. From the two hours of PE they got a week, a little over fifteen minutes were left and they were to fill it up with a short game of softball.

Sungjin’s team — and therefore Wonwoo’s team was at bat, and Sungjin, who had lingered at Wonwoo’s side the entire duration of the team picking, gave Wonwoo a shove in the back and flashed Wonwoo an encouraging smile that made him squirm.

His heart pounding against his ribcage, he had to remind himself that not every stranger who smiled at you did so maliciously. He forced an uncertain smile on his lips and took the bat from the teacher, who handed it to him like he didn’t know everything was wrong.

Wonwoo shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have been chosen willingly into a team. He shouldn’t be picked to be the first to swing. Nervously he took his stance on the mat, arms trembling slightly as he waited for the pitcher — a guy named Hyunjin — to throw the ball. He couldn’t miss now. It would mean he’d be back at the bottom, he’d be back to being a loser and he was not ready for that. Not now.

Hyunjin flung the ball nice and clean and it approached rapidly. Closer. Wonwoo’s palm began to sweat. Closer. And — a hit!

Shoving his doubts aside, he tossed his bat to the side and sprinted past the first base. Someone screamed something — a name? It sounded familiar but didn’t progress until it was too late and Wonwoo collided with someone tall and sturdy, sending them both sprawling on the floor. Mingyu. He recognised his laundry detergent, his nose being buried in his shirt. He’d landed half on top of him, their shoulders touching, his knee buried in something soft, and his elbow painfully scraping over the floor.

“Ahh!” Mingyu groaned next to his ear.

A little dazed, Wonwoo pushed himself up on his elbows, and it was then he realised that the softness his knee had landed in was nothing other than Mingyu’s very own groin.

Mingyu groaned some more and pushed Wonwoo's leg away. Wonwoo hurried to stand up, bending over Mingyu to check the damage. “Are you all right?”

“Ohh my _balls_ ,” Mingyu whined, curling in on himself a little.

Wonwoo didn’t know whether to laugh or to feel bad.

“Are you hurt? Mingyu?” Came the pressing voice of Mr. Hwang, who knelt at his side. “Are you hurt?” he asked again.

Mingyu toned down the drama. “He kneed me in the balls,” he muttered, uncurling his legs and sitting up.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo stuttered, his cheeks burning. “I didn’t see you.”

Mr. Hwang grabbed Mingyu by the hand and dragged him to his feet. “The lesson’s almost over. You can sit at the side or start changing clothes, okay?”

Nodding gratefully, Mingyu headed in the direction of the changing rooms, Wonwoo sauntering after him and being very aware of every single pair of eyes on them. As the situation played over in his head, he did his best not to laugh.

Wonwoo managed until he was halfway done changing clothes when Mingyu groaned in pain and Wonwoo had to muffle his snorts in his shirt but ended up laughing out loud anyway.

Mingyu whined and turned around for the sole purpose of flashing Wonwoo an utterly betrayed look — which only made Wonwoo laugh harder. “I'm sorry,” he hiccuped, “I don't mean to —  laugh but —” He made a vague gesture with his arms and continued laughing.

It didn't take long for the expression on Mingyu's face to soften, and soon he too was overcome with a fit of giggles. And so they stood there, Mingyu with his jeans up to his knees and Wonwoo with only one arm through the sleeve of his shirt, laughing because it was the best thing to do.

“I found some change in my pockets,” Wonwoo said when they were both fully dressed and ready to exchange the sport hall for the stuffy school building. “I thought maybe you'd want something from the vending machine?”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows. “Are you trying to buy your way back into my graces?”

“... Maybe. Is it working?”

“Only if you get me Skittles.”

*

“Hey, is that a book on programming?” Woozi asked, leaning to the side and dragging his eyes over the half visible spine of a book poking out of Wonwoo's bag.

Wonwoo nodded. “I've picked it up again. It's quite fun.”

Woozi's eyes sparkled. “Can I borrow it some time?”

“Depends. Do you treat your books well?”

“Uhm. Define good treatment.”

“It means no folded corners, no eating above the page and _no_ laying it upside down on a table when it's spread open.”

“That’s a lot of rules for books.”

“They're my babies.”

“Consider me your future baby sitter,” Woozi said.

At that, Wonwoo laughed. He had to clasp his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from making it rain breadcrumbs. “All right,” he said after swallowing his food, “You can borrow it when I've finished it.”

A timid smile appeared on Woozi's lips and he carefully opened his lunch box to retrieve a kiwi, a knife and a spoon. “Cool.”

Seungkwan sighed theatrically. “Can you guys stop talking about nerdy things for a minute? You're driving the ladies away.”

Seokmin snorted. “What ladies? I haven't seen one sit at this table for at least a year. I hardly think Wonwoo's the problem.” He earned himself a dirty look from Seungkwan.

“Wonwoo, do you have a girlfriend?” Seungkwan asked, expression effortlessly changing into one for pleasant conversation.

Suddenly everyone was looking at him. “Uhm. No,” he stammered, clutching his sandwich. “You don't either, I take it?”

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Seungkwan's response was a bit delayed, a confused expression on his features. Then Seungkwan started laughing.

“Seungkwan is not used to people talking back at him.”

Seungkwan smacked Vernon’s arm. “Shut up.” Vernon grinned.

Seokmin piped up, “We're all single.”

“Jup,” Vernon said, “Except for Jun who's somehow managed to ensnare a female.” This wasn’t the first time they’d mentioned this Jun guy. Seungkwan insisted they would get along and should meet, but the guy was only ever at their table during lunch time, which Wonwoo spent in the library with Minghao.

Woozi rolled his eyes, “Please don't refer to them as ‘females’.”

“You're just annoyed because you've never had a _female_ of your own.”

Woozi’s brows formed a frown. “I've had a girlfriend,” he said, through a bite of his favourite fruit, “How can you have already forgotten that?”

Seungkwan shrugged. “You broke up so fast Vernon must've thought it wasn't relevant,” he said.

With a slight tremor in his fingers, Woozi put down his kiwi. “Oh it was _relevant_ all right.”

Wonwoo, who was starting to feel like he was in danger just by being in Woozi’s proximity — there was a knife _right there_ on the table —, looked around to see Seokmin's face draining of color. Seungkwan, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. “Then why'd you break up?”

Woozi gripped his spoon tight, spitting out, “Because my parents—”

“Oh, right,” Seungkwan rolled his eyes and nudged Vernon for backup — which the latter wasn’t stupid enough to provide, “Because your parents don't approve of a single thing you do _ever_ . Honestly, I don't understand why you care so much about what they have to say. You're never going to be good enough for them so you might as well do the things _you_ enjoy.”

Woozi's knuckles turned white. He sprung up, chair rocketing backwards, “You can talk! At least _my_ parents don’t—”

“Jeez, I leave you alone for all of ten minutes and you're already ripping each other's hair out?” Mingyu said, effectively bringing Woozi and Seungkwan to a halt.

“Maybe if you didn't keep going to your little appointments this wouldn't have happened,” Seungkwan sneered, leaning back into his chair but not breaking eye contact with his opponent.

Mingyu gave him a tired look but before he could say anything, Vernon spoke up, his voice a little high pitched. “Speaking of, how was it?”

“He doesn't know yet,” Mingyu said, dragging a chair backwards to sit on it sideways, “But I've got a feeling he's one of us.” A smirk Wonwoo didn't understand played on his lips.

Vernon laughed, “I told you! High five!” He threw his hand up and received the requested high five.

“Don't tell a soul.”

“Not a word.”

Woozi retrieved his chair and sat down stiffly, “Can we talk about something else now before I lose my will to live?”

*

“Are they usually like this when you're not around?” Wonwoo asked after a brief moment of contemplation. His hands clasped the handles of his bike as he pulled it free from the rack. He heard the key turn in the lock of Mingyu's bike.

Mingyu snorted and lead the way outside. “It's not me being around that helps. Sometimes they're just in a bad mood and need to take it out on someone, it just so happened to be in a moment I wasn't there.”

“The things they said though…”

“I know. But it's Woozi and Seungkwan; they'll just ignore each other for a bit then go back to normal. Their personalities clash but I think deep down inside they're fond of one another.” He paused in his step. “Well, I say ‘I think’ but it's more like ‘I hope’ at this point.”

Just as Wonwoo was about to respond his shoulder collided with something hard that turned out to be a walking person. Again. He was so clumsy these days. Maybe Mingyu’s motoric skills were rubbing off on him. “Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't—”  

The words stuck on Wonwoo's tongue as their eyes met. His heart hammered in his chest and his ears whizzed, but Jaebum barely looked at him, his gaze instead moving over to look at Mingyu.

He stared at Mingyu for a long moment, inclined his head and quickly walked on. Only when he was out of sight did Wonwoo's heart rate go back to normal.

He looked over at Mingyu to find his hands tightly grasping the handles of his bike, face hard set.

“Mingyu?” Wonwoo asked softly, “Do you know him?”

It took another moment for Mingyu to snap out of it and turn his head to look at Wonwoo. “What?”

“I asked if you knew him.”

“I used to. Did he bully you? Back at your old school, was he the one that harassed you?”

Wonwoo shook his head. “No harassing. And for bullying, he was one of many.”

Mingyu's mouth was a grim line. “Alright. Let's go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far please don't hesitate to leave a comment with your opinion/expectations. I will definitely take the things you say into consideration! (unless you're trying to tell me Mingyu isn't a Skittles person, that's not up for debate. also Skittles are delicious and that's that.)


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